


Somehow

by Jenwryn



Category: Death Note
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Double Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-21
Updated: 2009-08-21
Packaged: 2017-10-02 12:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenwryn/pseuds/Jenwryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They have nothing at all in common. <br/>[Post-series AU.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somehow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eltea](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Eltea).



> For [eltea](http://eltea.livejournal.com/), who is too gorgeous and clever for words, and who never complains despite the fact that I owe her fic from a million years ago, oh dear. And, now that I've finally written her one, it's tiny-tiny. And miserable. There is no justice in the world, and I am made of fail. XD;

They have nothing at all in common. Her lacy tights, tangled on the floor with his formerly crisp tie, make that eminently clear.

They have nothing at all in common except, of course, one single thing. The ache, deep inside of chests and limbs and loins. The ache, which they work out, or work further inwards, perhaps, like a splinter which has equal chance of either dislodging or entering the bloodstream. Their bodies move together on a hotel bed. Yellow hair mingles with black as she bends herself closer, closer, to press her mouth against his forehead. He doesn't speak. He leans in towards her, leans away, pulls a face, concentrates on the motion of her hips. Slow-trailing lines of perspiration knit them together, but their lips don't meet. Their lips never meet. Somehow, that would be wrong. Somehow, that would be a betrayal of the one for whom they ache. And yet, somehow, this is okay. Somehow, as his hands play tunes against her skin – play a prayer, in fingerprints, for a dead god; a prayer, tattooed, invisible, on the flesh of god's fallen queen – this is okay.

Misa doesn't cry anymore, but she doesn't smile either.


End file.
